


Scorched Bonds

by The_Disaster_Tiefling



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Fear, Friendship/Love, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Trust, M/M, Magic, Memories, Mind Control, Nightmares, Secrets, Serious Injuries, Team as Family, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-05-03 00:41:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14557140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Disaster_Tiefling/pseuds/The_Disaster_Tiefling
Summary: “No!” It comes out as a strangled shout, his chest heaving and breaths coming in frantic pants. Too close, he had come so close to surrendering to the charm and if he had…the flames are roaring in his chest now, reminding him of what he can do, what those whispered words could have made him do.'When a fight goes wrong and magic ensares the rest of the Nein, Caleb is left alone, facing his friends...his family...and he's forced to make a choice.





	1. Chapter 1

    Caleb froze as he felt the magic washing over him, trying to take a hold of him, tendrils seeping under his skin and trying to twine around his thoughts. It’s singing to him, an alluring song that has him blinking heavily, a peaceful feeling crawling over him. _Let go,_ it’s telling him. _Stop fighting,_ it whispers as it curls tighter around him. _Obey,_ it croons in his mind, tugging him closer, embracing him and his eyes flutter as he feels himself beginning to sink under the weight of it. It would be so easy to just let go, to stop fighting and to obe… the last word catches, because he’s heard that word too many times in the past, bowed to it too many times and there are flames and screams playing at the edge of his thoughts and he jerks, pressing blackened fingers into his side and the burn of flames is the last jolt he needs to break free.

“No!” It comes out as a strangled shout, his chest heaving and breaths coming in frantic pants. _Too close,_ he had come so close to surrendering to the charm and if he had…the flames are roaring in his chest now, reminding him of what he can do, what those whispered words could have made him do, and he trembles even as he forces his head up, remembering that he hadn’t been the only one in range of that spell. “Watch o--.” The warning dies on his lips, because the others are frozen in place and as he watches, blankness creeps over each one of their faces, whilst those who’d had their weapons lifted ready to launch another attack are slowly lowering them. “No…n-no no no.” He’s not sure what is worse, the utter blankness on Jester’s usually lively features, watching Nott go still or seeing the emptiness creeping into Molly’s eyes.

_You’ll never be empty again…_

     His own words are mocking him and his hands clench at his sides as he forces himself to drag his gaze away from Molly, to focus on the Sorcerer they had been fighting. The mocking expression on her face, and the triumph in her eyes as she glances around at the rest of the Mighty Nein igniting a different kind of fire in his chest and before he can think about what he’s doing, he’s stepped forward, betraying the fact that he hadn’t been caught in her net. “Let them go,” he demands…pleads… because he can fight many things, even with the fear that grips him when he does, but he can’t fight them.

He won’t.

“Impressive,” she murmurs, and it’s the same alluring whisper he’d heard in his mind, only now it’s been given physical form and he can feel the magic reaching for him again. He presses a hand against the fresh burn on his side, using the pain to resist and after a moment she sighed and let the spell dissipate, but he didn’t dare let himself relax. “There’s not been someone who could resist me for many years.” That explains why it had been so hard to track her, the lies that they’d been aware of but unable to break through even with Jester’s ‘Cone of Truth’ and Molly’s silky tongue, the dots connecting easily now, and Caleb curses himself for not making the connection sooner. He’d known that something was wrong, had argued about coming here whilst there was still so many questions unanswered, but in the end, he’d bowed to the fact that they weren’t going to get the answers and that they couldn’t wait any longer. He should have argued more, he should have been stronger…  “Still, it won’t save you.”

“I don’t care what you do to me.” It’s not quite a lie. He’s afraid of what she could do to him, having seen the way his first couple of spells had been brushed aside as though they were nothing, but it’s a fear that pales in comparison to the terror of what she could do to his friends…his family…his everything…whilst they’re in her grasp. He doesn’t want any of them to have those kinds of stains on their souls. “Kill me. Take me, just please let them go.” He doesn’t want to give up his self-control, not again, but he would in a heartbeat if it meant that they were safe. For a moment she seems to consider his offer, grey eyes flitting to the damage that his deflected spells had caused earlier, and he remembers how her attention had immediately shifted to him once he’d cast. If she wants his magic she can have it.  “Please…I will give you everything I am.” _No, no, no,_ there’s a voice screaming in the back of his mind, memories trying to bubble up and overwhelm him. He’s shaking and sick to his stomach at the thought of allowing the past to repeat itself, of becoming that monster once more, but he won’t take the words back.

“A pet wizard.” He flinches at her words, knowing that he would be worse than a pet, but he doesn’t speak. He’s never been good with words, and he can’t risk saying the wrong thing when there’s even a sliver of a chance that she will accept his offer. _Please._ Nott and Molly are probably furious at him right now, Beau would probably be calling him every name under the sun if she could, and Jester and Fjord would be calling him all kinds of idiot, but he won’t take the words back, even if they can never forgive him for what he’s trying to do. “Very well…” His breath catches at her words, hope and terror warring for control, because this is it. He’s selling his soul…again… and this time he doubts he’ll be offered an opportunity to escape. That’s fine. He had been living on borrowed time anyway, and this way it wouldn’t all be in vain because they would all be safe and Nott had other people around her now, ones that she could trust, ones who looked past the fact that she was Goblin, she would be safe…and Molly.

    Fresh pain blossoms at the thought of the Tiefling, and it takes everything he has to stop his eyes drifting to where Molly is stood frozen, wary of exposing that weakness, of exposing Molly to the hungry eyes that are still watching his every move. “But first I think you should prove your worth.”

“What…?” He blinks, drawn back by her voice, no longer soft and alluring, but underpinned by ice and steel, the tone sending a shiver down his spine. _My worth…?_ She’s seen his magic, seen his ability to withstand her, what more…it takes him a second to realise that her gaze is no longer focused on him, but rather on the rest of the Nein. On his friends, his family, and terror grips him as he realises what she wants. What she is asking of him.  “No…” It slips out before he can stop it, not that he would have, because there are many things he would do to ensure their safety, but not that, anything but that.

_There’s steel at his throat, the scent of the sea tickling his nose as golden eyes bore into his…_

_‘We’re either a team, or you’re working for yourself.’_

    So, much has changed since then. Whereas once he might have considered doing it as long as Nott was safe, anything to save his own skin, to keep himself alive, he can’t stand even the thought of it now. It feels like a lifetime ago, a time before Fjord and Beau had become family, assholes and liars that they were…a time before Jester with all her annoying questions and pranks had crept into the part of his heart that had belonged to Nott alone, a time before Yasha had become a comforting presence when she was with them, someone he trusted to always come back to them and a time before Molly…he can’t stop his eyes from flickering towards Molly this time, heart aching when crimson eyes stare blankly ahead, blind to his existence. They’re not supposed to be like that, they should be dancing with life. They should be meeting his gaze, engulfing him in a warmth that he’s never experienced anywhere else and it hurts…

“I won’t fight them.” The words hurt even though they come as easily as breathing, because he knows that he’s throwing away the chance to save them. But he can’t fight them, he won’t…

    He doesn’t hear the command, but he sees it in the narrowed grey eyes, and he feels it in the eddies of magic in the air and his breath catches as it flows around him, leaving him unaffected and slowly, trying to deny what is happening he turns his attention to the others. They’re still blank, expressions devoid of all the complexities that make them his family, but their eyes are moving, seeking him out and as he watches, fingers tighten on weapons as they turn towards him. “Don’t…” He pleads, voice trembling, but he knows that it’s not enough. It’s not them. He doesn’t even know if they’re aware of what’s happening around them, of what they’re doing…he hopes they don’t, he prays to the deities that abandoned him long ago that they won’t realise what’s happening, what they’re being made to do.

He prays that they’ll be spared the burden that he carries.

    Beau moves first, of course she does. The spell can’t change who she is, not completely and it’s almost a relief to see her charging forward, staff raised. Almost. Because this is Beau, stubborn, easily irritated Beau who he’d once feared and disliked for her bluntness, but who had become his strength, someone who would always be there. They still clashed on occasion, but it was more how he imagined siblings to be, but now she was closing the distance between them, expression blank, but muscles quivering with the attack to come. Spells rush through his mind…flames dance through his memory…and he freezes, because she is family and he can’t, won’t hurt her. It’s only at the last minute that he manages to move, throwing himself to the side and flinching as he hears wood connecting with the stone floor right where he had been only seconds before.

    There’s no time for relief, because she’s spinning towards, fist flying for his face and again he barely dodges it, remembering all the times she had tried to teach him hand-to-hand, before throwing her hands up in exasperation and telling him just to remember to dodge. _I remembered,_ he tells her silently, backing away, only to find Fjord is there, seawater dancing across his face as the blade flashes through the air between them. He throws up a magical shield a split second too late, the tip of the blade scraping across his cheek before it’s forced away and it’s too much…too similar to that night…to much like they’ve gone back to being less than acquaintances, and he freezes even as he hears Beau recovering behind him.

“Fjord…please…” His voice cracks and breaks, fading into nothingness as blankness greets his plea and he hangs his head, hiding from the empty golden gaze. It would be easier to give up, to make this end. He can’t win, and this hurts more than he had ever thought possible, even in the days when he had lived on edge, constantly waiting for them to see the monster he was and chase him away. He nearly does, after all, what can he do? He won’t hurt them, and he’s not a fighter and…

Laughter.

    He tenses, shivering as the sound wraps around him. It’s nothing like the warm laughter he’s grown accustomed to when they spend a night together in a tavern, drinking and chatting, watching as Jester and Nott cause havoc, and Molly draws eyes just by beings himself. It’s nothing like the tender chuckle that always greets the blushes that dust his cheek whenever Molly teases him, or they forget that they’re in public.  No, this is cold and mocking, and it claws at his spine as he forces his head up, trying not to look at Fjord, who is pulling back, ready to attack again, or Beau who is springing forward at him from the other side. Instead he seeks out the Mage, sees the cruel amusement in her eyes as she meets his gaze, the mocking curl of her lip and he snarls, infernal that Molly had taught him falling from his lips and his magic stirs.

    Ice blossoms around him, a domed shield that forms just in time as Fjord and Beau attack in union, silver and blue dancing in the air as it shatters under the impact but it’s enough to force them back. _I can’t fight them, but I can fight you…_ He can’t win, not as he is. She had turned his aside his spells with no effort, and he’s used a lot of magic already, but he must try. He has too…purple fills his vision, and he barely throws up another wall of ice as the giant lollipop swings towards him. His spell takes most of the damage, but it’s not enough and he stumbles back, pain radiating through his chest and breath haggard as a sickle follows the first blow and this time there is no ice and he’s forced to drop to his knees, feeling the blade pass too close for comfort.

   They’re all moving towards him now, and as he catches a flurry of colour on the periphery of his vision he knows that he needs to act, because he can’t… _lavender fingers dance over his skin, worshipping every inch of skin and when he looks up, Molly is smiling, gaze soft and reverent as though he’s looking at something precious and it’s too much…it’s too much…_ Shaking fingers curl around the diamond in his pocket, and he squeezes his eyes shut as he whispered a prayer. A spell. A plea.

    Lightning lashes the ground between him and them, and even the spell can’t completely erase their survival instincts and it forces them back a few steps. It’s not enough. He knows better than anyone what this ragtag group of lunatics is capable of, but it’s all he has, and calling on what reserves of strength he has he surges to his feet. The spark that is his magic, is dimming, fading with exhaustion and he knows that he’s only going to get one chance at this…one chance to take her out, one chance to free them…

_Please…_

    He’s not sure who he’s talking to this time, who he’s asking for help. Frumpkin is gone for now, taken out in the skirmish to reach the Sorcerer. The others are moving forwards again, blank eyes and weapons aimed in his direction and the Gods if they exist have never helped him before…but he can’t do this alone, not now, not after the others had torn down all his carefully built walls. It’s just him right now, and its not enough, he’s never been enough…but the magic is there, weak as it is and he’s moving, clutching at the memory of Beau charging in, of Jester rushing to engage the priest, of Nott leaping on the Devil-Toad’s face…clawing at the memories of their bravery as his own flags and threatens to fail, but he’s still moving forward, and the magic gathers.

Those few steps weren’t enough.

    He’s barely moved before they’re on him again, and panicking he unleashes the spell, watching helplessly as fire slams into the wall, scorching the earth before it fades away. Wasted. Gone. His magic, flickers and fades, sparks dancing under his skin, enough to remind him of his failure but not enough to help.

   Jester’s face, devoid of the laughter and mischief that he has come to appreciate flashes in front of him and he’s knocked to the side, all the air driven from his chest, as he skids across the stone floor, vision blurring as the lollipop pursues him. It’s sheer desperation that lets him roll to the side as it slams down once more, but there’s no relief, because Beau and Fjord are there, and his only saving grace is that they’re not working around one another as gracefully as normal. Still, there are shadows dancing across his eyes as he rolls to one side and then the other, aware of more footsteps approach, heart aching as he realises who it must be.

“Stop…” He pleads. He doesn’t care that his chest feels like its on fire, each breath a special kind of agony or that he will likely be black and blue if he survives this. He doesn’t care that there’s blood trickling down his face from where Fjord had caught him. It hurts, it burns that this is his friends… his family…but he can bear it all, because they’re not themselves, but he’s not sure that he can bear it if they attack.

Not them…

    His words fall on deaf ears, and there’s a ringing in his ears when he’s a hair too slow dodging Beau’s staff and he gasps, curling in on himself as he roles away. _Stop. Please, stop._ Was this what the people who had faced him had felt? This numb terror of knowing that the person you were fighting wasn’t really there, that your words weren’t going to reach them? Bile rises once more, and its pure luck that guides him out of the path of Fjord’s next blow. _Stop…._ He doesn’t have the right to ask, to hope that they will stop, but he can see iridescent purple out of the corner of his eyes and a familiar flash of black and green, and his heart seizes at the sight.

_No…_

   He doesn’t want any of them to bear this pain, this burden, least of all those two and its enough to force him up to his feet. He makes it, albeit not unscathed, fresh pain lancing a path across his face as the Falchion fills his vision once more. _We’re either a team…_ No, they’re more, they’ve become so much more, and he forces back the hurt, the terror and shoves. He’s not strong, something Jester has lamented more than once, whilst taking great joy in being able to lift him up when he’s refusing to put down his books and pay attention. But he’s himself, his mind is still his own and it’s enough, Fjord stumbles, and Caleb winces as he hears Beau’s staff connect with the half-Orc, but’s already moving, darting away. He’s beyond tapped, he’s got nothing left but he’s got to try, and there’s ice and fire in his eyes as he seeks out his prey – she’s not afraid, why would she be - but he has to try one last time, and it will be his last, because he’s stumbling now. Pain and exhaustion threatening to bring him down to the ground.

_Please._ He’s pleading again, stumbling and staggering as he lunges towards her, trying to dredge up his magic. A spark. Just a spark. He can feel it trying to respond, a flicker of warmth that reminds him of the candles that he had practiced with as a child, the flame caught in the wind, and just as he thinks he has it, it splutters out. No…Frantic he grasps for it again, terror flooding him as he meets grey eyes and hears movement behind him, the others pursuing him.

    The next burst of pain when it comes isn’t unexpected, he’d known from the start that there was no way for him to dodge all their attacks. Still this is different, sharp and all-consuming, and he can’t stop the pained cry that slips free as he staggers, just managing to keep his feet as he forces himself to look down. There, just above his hip and still quivering from the impact is a familiar bolt, and the pain emanating from the wound pales in comparison to the sharp jolt in his heart as he lifts his head, seeking out his attacker. “Nott…” He meets blank golden eyes, and he wants to weep as he watches her lips curl up into a snarl, making her look every inch the beast that so many people mistake her for. His gaze drifts to the crossbow in her hands, and then down to the bolt in his side. _Why did it have to be her?_ He takes a deep, shuddering breath and lifts his eyes, forcing himself to meet her gaze. He doesn’t know if she’s aware of what’s happening, he prays that she isn’t, but he can’t be sure and as much as it hurts to speak he tries to soothe her. “This…this isn’t your fault, Liebling…This…” 

    He isn’t given a chance to finish, feeling movement behind him and he twists desperately to the side, igniting fresh fire in his side as he catches the bolt and stumbling, legs threatening to give out. It saves him. There’s a twin flash of silver, a fresh line of pain running across his arm and when he glances back, its to find himself staring into empty crimson.

_Molly…_

    Caleb falters, blind to the others spreading out around him as he stares at the Tiefling. His injuries burn, the newest wound a sickening fire that radiates through his side, blurring his vision, nausea rising as he wavers. _Molly…_ It’s wrong, seeing him like this but what makes it worse is that he knows that this is what Molly fears more than anything. It’s not something he’s ever admitted aloud, but it’s there in the way he clings to who he is now, making Mollymauk Tealeaf as outlandish and unforgettable as possible. It’s there in the way he will wake from a nightmare, chanting his name under his breath, reminding himself of who he is, and how he will melt, shivering and quivering when Caleb presses the name into his skin with gentle kisses. “M-Molly…” It won’t work, he knows that it won’t, but Gods save him he has to try, because this is Molly. His Molly, the one person apart from Nott who had seen through every layer of his armour, who had reached out and pulled him close despite the dirt, the secrets and the monster that lingers beneath the surface. “Don’t…”

    It isn’t enough. He knew that it wasn’t, and yet the sight of Molly tensing, tail lashing behind him as he lifts his swords, breaks him. He has no shields left, no spells that won’t eradicate his family if he uses them at this range, and this is Molly…

He can’t attack him, but…

    It’s a desperate, fleeting thought and he shudders when it hits him. _I can’t…_ but he has to, because Molly is coming at him now, mere feet between them, and he can’t fight back, and he can’t dodge, his body a burning, sickening mess of aches and pain. He closes his eyes, knowing that he can’t avoid the attack and unable to bear the thought of watching it come, of watching Molly lunging at him with empty eyes. Instead he turns inwards, seeking that tiny, stuttering spark of magic. It’s not enough, but that’s okay…this magic is different…from a different part of him. It’s a magic that he hasn’t used in years, a magic that he hasn’t touched since… _flames dance around him, curling around him, bowing to his will…there’s screaming, pleading…and then…_ He gasps, coming back to himself, bile rising in his throat. He’d promised himself that he’d changed, that he would never use that magic again, that he would never be that monster again. He seems to be breaking many promises today, he hasn’t kept Nott safe, he hasn’t kept Molly from being empty…

“This isn’t your fault.” He whispers, and it isn’t enough, not for what’s about to happen, but it’s all that he has right now, eyes flickering open and he meets crimson for a second before he whirls. Pain. Raw, burning lines of pain are drawn across his back as Molly reaches for him, and it steals his breath for a moment, tears clouding his eyes. He staggers and falls to one knee and the darkness is closing in on him now, but the spark is there, flickering and weak and it’s enough as he seeks out the sorcerer one last time. He can barely see her now, but that doesn’t matter. He had never been able to see in the past and he closes his eyes, grasping the spark, and his voice is a broken whisper as he manages to force out a single word. “Feuer.”

   It’s not a spell, not like the ones he normally uses, or the ones painstakingly written into his books. It’s wild and angry, wildfire searing through his veins, scorching him from within and then it’s bursting out of him, roaring as it seeks his target and he can’t see, can’t breathe. He doesn’t know where the others are anymore, there’s nothing but his bleeding, aching form and the wildfire consuming him, and he’s not sure where one begins and the other ends. There’s no way for him to stop it now, or to protect the others and his head falls against his chest, eyes slipping shut as his breath catches and chokes.

   He begs the gods he doesn’t believe in to protect them, he pleads with the fire to spare them and he gives himself to the flames in offering…


	2. Chapter 2

_The flames are gentle at first, warm against a chill he doesn’t understand, teasing his skin and pulling him deeper. It reminds him of when he had first learnt to summon them, back before he had realised how dangerous they were and how much they would take from him. Looking at them now he still feels a flicker of that same awe and excitement, the wonder that something so powerful and beautiful can come from him._

_That’s when something changes, shifting and he’s not sure if it's him or the flames, but they’re reaching higher now, darkness seeping into the dancing flames that hadn’t been there before, and it burns. He tells himself he can bear it, that he deserves it and some distant part of him, half-forgotten, knows that he has to hold on a little longer. The flames are fighting him now, surging against the delicate tendrils of control he still has over them and all it takes is a split second of fear, a brief distraction, and his control snaps and the fire is on him. It’s still beautiful, but wild, angry and his will caves before it as the flames lash at his skin, twisting and burning as they devour him._

_And Caleb screams._

_****_

     If you’d asked Molly that morning what his worst memory was, he wouldn’t have hesitated with his answer, a shiver working its way down his spine as he thought of cold, dark earth and a gnawing, aching emptiness that couldn’t be filled. Hell, if you’d asked him just a few hours before when they had begun to realise that they were out of their depth with this job, watching as Caleb’s spells were knocked aside with terrifying ease and their attacks rarely came close to hitting let alone causing damage, his answer would still have been the same.

Not now.

   Not when Caleb was currently still and silent on the bed, hovering somewhere between life and death, because of them. Because of him…

    The wizard was pale, making the livid marks stand out more vividly where they peeked out from under the bandages covering a significant portion of his body. Jester had done what she could, pushing herself beyond her limits and weeping as she pleaded with the Traveller to give her a little more strength, but there was too much damage for her to heal in one go and they’d already exhausted their supply of healing potions. Beau was currently out searching for more, but if this town was like the others they’d passed through lately then all their potions would have been sent to the front and Molly’s shoulders slump, fingers curling around the hand he had been cradling for the past hour.  It’s heavily bandaged, Caleb’s hands having born the worst of his efforts to save them, but Molly couldn’t bring himself to let go, even though he wasn’t sure that he had the right to be still holding onto him.

_I did this._

    That wasn’t true. It hadn’t been him. Even with the guilt and fury swirling around in his chest, he knew that much, bile rising as he remembered the feeling of that spell’s tendrils beginning to curl around his thoughts, around his heart. The magic had whispered to him, called to him in the same alluring voice that he sometimes heard from the odd, drifting memory that belonged to the person he used to be. He’d thought it.  Moonweaver, he’d fought tooth and nail against the sensation, trying to wrench his mind free until he’d felt that it was going to be torn to pieces and he would have welcomed it, especially with what had followed. However, his efforts had been futile, and it had pulled him under, consuming him completely.

It had been like watching himself through a thick panel glass. His thoughts, his emotions, they’d still been there, but there had been a barrier between them and his body. It had reminded him of the emptiness even though this time he had been overwhelmed with emotions. Fury. Fear. Despair. Guilt. The fear of that deep, dark space in the earth and the emptiness, paling in comparison to the terror that had gripped him as he’d watched Caleb trying to bargain for their release, his heart breaking when he’d offered himself…all of himself, for them. He’d known it would never be enough for the Sorcerer, but it hadn’t stopped him screaming and flinging against the walls around his mind, pleading with Caleb to flee, but the words never made it past his frozen lips.

   He’d been helpless. Useless. Unable to do anything but watch, seeing the terror and conflict in Caleb’s expression, and there had been a moment of relief when Caleb had refused to fight them because even if it meant they were going to fall here, it would save Caleb from that burden. Of course, it hadn’t been that simple. He’d been moving before he’d realised it, the spell propelling him forward as though he was nothing more than a puppet on a string, and the voice had been back, alluring and cruel at once as it commanded him to stop Caleb…to attack him.

_To hurt, to kill._

_To destroy._

    He was terrified that they might have succeeded in the last one, gaze riveted on the pale features, strained with fear and grief even in deep unconsciousness and as much as he wanted – needed- Caleb to wake up, he was terrified of what he would do when he did. Would he hate them? Fear them? Would, he even still be the Caleb they’d known…?

Caleb…” Molly’s voice caught in his throat, and he swallowed as he glanced down. There was a fleeting second of amusement as he imagined how Caleb would react if he’d realised that he’d made Molly speechless for once, but it disappeared quickly, smothered beneath the weight on his chest and the noise that followed was halfway between a sob and groan. “I’m sorry.” He’d said those words more times than he could count in the last few hours, and they hadn’t changed anything, yet he still hadn’t found any other words.  “I’m so sorry…” It wasn’t enough; no apology would ever be enough for what they’d done to him. _What I did to him_ …. Sure, there had been fights before, they all had strong beliefs and opinions, and they didn’t always agree, but this was different, and he had no idea how they were going to come back from this.

    If he closed his eyes, he could how Caleb had looked standing there, bloodied and staggering from their attacks. He’d been screaming inside when his blades had first caught the wizard, the blood he’d drawn making him sick to his stomach, but worse had been the expression on Caleb’s face when he had met his gaze. There’d been fear and grief, and so many other emotions that Molly hadn’t been able to name them, but what had really hurt was the fact that the fear had been for them, for what was being done to them, rather than what they might do to Caleb. It had been there in the way Caleb had refused to hurt them, using his magic defensively when forced, reluctance written across his face, and it was there in the broken voice. _Molly…don’t_ … Caleb had tried to reach out to him, to pull him back and Molly had tried, but it hadn’t been enough…he hadn’t been strong enough, and Caleb.

_Moonweaver…_

      It had been an unspoken thing, but they’d all known that Caleb had more power than he showed in their usual battles. Even without Nott’s proclamations that he could be great, it had been there in the way the wizard was always so careful with what spells he used, the dedication he took to learning just how much power was needed for each new spell he learnt. And the fear that would linger in his eyes on the days when he’d been forced to use stronger spells. However, their suspicions hadn’t come close to the power that Caleb had displayed today, and Molly shivered, squeezing his eyes shut, as for a moment all he could see, and feel was the light and heat of the wildfire that had burst out of the wizard.

_Molly had been screaming when he’d sprung forward, lunging at Caleb with an intent that wasn’t his own, feeling his blades biting into the wizard’s back. Terror gripping him when Caleb had staggered and fallen to one knee, the voice in his mind reaching a crescendo as it ordered him to finish things, and he’d lifted his blades, shattering and breaking inside as he’d stepped forward, a mindless puppet in the grip of the spell._

_He’d come so close to doing it, blades raised, a single step left between them._

_“Feuer…” He’d almost missed the quiet whisper amongst his screaming thoughts, but there had been no way to miss the flames that had erupted from the wizard, the force of them flinging Molly back several steps and only his natural resistance saving him from a nasty demise. The fire is wild, nothing like the flames that he has watched Caleb coax to life and shape to his whim in the past, and there’s a moment of awe as he watches them surging forwards. And beneath it all is a desperate, burning hope that Caleb is finally fighting back, that he’s realised that they’re not worth his life._

_It’s only when the glass holding him shatters, the spell releasing him with an almost audible pop that he realises they hadn’t been Caleb’s target. Unprepared he staggers, gasping as it feels like he can breathe for the first time in hours. Around him, he can hear the others, but he can’t focus on them now, his scimitars falling from shaking fingers as somewhere beyond Caleb and the flames he hears a scream._

_The Sorcerer._

_The realisation has barely registered, his mind struggling to adapt to its sudden freedom when the sound trails off, and in the wake of it, he closes his eyes, knowing what the silence means and grieving for the burden of another life that will now be on Caleb’s shoulder. He doesn’t mourn her death, shivering, bile rising as the weight of what he’d done. What they’d all done to Caleb under her magic hits him again, but Caleb…_

_Everything comes to a grinding halt as Caleb screams, a sound of pure agony and grief, just as there’s a shift in the flames that Molly realises haven’t abated even with the demise of their target, and terror grips him as he realises that the fire is no longer Caleb’s. If it ever was, he realises, the flames dancing higher and higher, the wizard writhing in their midst and Molly doesn’t think as he lunges forwards._

_“CALEB!” It burns. His natural resistance is barely holding up, and he can feel his clothes beginning to burn and smell his hair smouldering as he slams bodily into Caleb, apologies running through his mind as he thinks of the injuries his partner is already sporting._

_They both hit the ground hard, but the flames follow, reluctant to relinquish their hold on Caleb and Molly is barely aware of the others rushing towards them as he wrenches off his already scorched coat, frantically beginning to beat at the flames. It’s not enough. It’s not normal fire, drawing its life from Caleb, even as the wizard screams and writhes, unaware of Molly’s presence._

_“Caleb!” Fjord and Beau are the first to reach their side, the former already with his cloak out, and without a word Molly lets him take over fighting the flames as he reaches for Caleb’s face, slapping him lightly, hating himself for causing the wizard more pain._

_“Caleb! Caleb!!” They don’t have the right to ask any more from him now, but he’s the only one who can stop the flames, and Molly forces himself to repeat his actions over and over, voice rising in desperation and joined by the others as Jester and Nott reach them._

_It took far too long for his liking, but eventually, he was rewarded with a glimpse of unfocused blue. Caleb’s head tilting towards him although he had a feeling the wizard wasn’t seeing him, lips finally moving in something other than a scream and leaning forwards as the flames finally began to die away, he realised that the wizard was mumbling in Zemnian._

_“Beschütz sie…”_

_He couldn’t understand the words, his Zemnian still rudimentary at best, but there was no missing the pleading tone or the desperation, and heart aching he reached out, and cusped Caleb’s cheek as the last of the flames faded away._

_“You saved us…” He murmured, and he’s not sure if his words are reaching Caleb as the wizard continues to mumble even as his eyes slipped shut. “You saved us, Caleb.”_

_But at what cost?_

_Molly was shaking again, not sure if he had ever really stopped from the moment that Caleb had fallen unconscious and as he lifted the bandaged hand to his lips, kissing it lightly, he couldn’t stop that question from replaying through his mind._

_*_

    Molly was pulled from his thoughts by noise in the corridor, and he tensed as the door opened, one hand already curled around the hilt of one of his scimitars, ready to defend Caleb, before he realised that it was Fjord. The other man didn’t comment on his behaviour, golden eyes flicking to the blade and away again, and Molly slowly pulled his hand away, a light shrug the closest thing to an apology that he could manage right now. As far as they knew, the Sorcerer’s manipulations had ended with her death, but Molly wasn’t about to take any chances when Caleb was already hovering on a knifepoint.

“How’s Jester?” He managed to ask, finding it hard to focus on anything but Caleb at the moment, but Jester had been distraught when she’d realised she’d used up all her magic, fighting tooth and nail against resting until he was healed, and Fjord had been forced to physically remove her from the room.

“I got her to eat something, and she’s resting now,” Fjord replied, managing to sound like himself for a moment, but then his gaze strayed to Caleb and he visibly faltered, his shoulders slumping as he added quietly.  “Hopefully she’ll be able to finish healing him in the morning.” They both knew it wouldn’t be enough. Knew that the damage went far beyond what they could see on the surface, and they weren’t sure that they had anything that could help.

“Has Beau come back?” The short nod and dark expression followed, stopped his next question before he could voice it. No luck… Not for the first time, Molly cursed the war and the empire, eyes flicking back to Caleb’s pale features. If their conflict takes him from me, he didn’t finish the thought, but he could feel it taking root under his skin, a dark promise that he hoped wouldn’t come to pass.

“She’s keeping Nott company,” Fjord added, as he moved to lean against the wall at the end of the bed, eyes fixed on Caleb for a long moment, before adding softly, as though to spare the wizard from his words. “Nott…. isn’t doing well.” Molly almost laughed at that. Were any of them? But, he couldn’t forget how Nott had wailed when she’d got her first good look at Caleb’s wounds, or the way her eyes had lingered on the bolt she had hit him with. Something had broken in her then, they’d all seen it, but they hadn’t had the words to help her and Molly had a feeling that the only one who stood a chance of reaching her, was currently lying in the bed.

“What a fucking mess…” He breathed, startling a sharp bark of laughter from Fjord that held no humour at all.

“Yeah…”

_****_

_There are gentle hands cupping his cheeks, fingers brushing his skin as a soft voice calls to him and for a moment Caleb is happy to lie there and indulge in the sensation. His mind is hazy, filled with smoke that seems to crackle and darken when he tries to focus on it, and he has a feeling that he doesn’t want it to clear. That he doesn’t want to know what lies beneath the smoke, and so instead he leant into the touch, into the gentleness he’s sure he doesn’t deserve._

_“Molly…” The name falls like a sigh from his lips, even as they quirk in a slight smile. Molly’s love of physical contact had scared him at first, too different from what he was used to, but the Tiefling’s gentleness and patience had converted him, and now he longed for it, more than he had any right to._

_“Molly?” A confused voice asked, and for a moment Caleb couldn’t breathe. He knew that voice, although it had been years since he’d heard it, and the last time…  He swallowed thickly, before forcing himself to open his eyes, refusing to hide from it. A familiar face came into view, delicate features framed by red curls, a smile that she shouldn’t be giving him, lighting up sky blue eyes and his voice when it comes is a broken croak._

_“Mother…” Her fingers curl against his cheek, tender and loving, and it hurts. He doesn’t deserve this, not after what he'd done and he was already pulling away when the first flames appear behind her, eyes widening as they reach for, her calm expression melting away to one of agony and terror._

_“Caleb, why…?”_

_“No!” Caleb screams, lunging forwards “No, no, no…” He’s sobbing, pleading as he scrambles towards her, trying to reach her before she’s consumed completely. “Please!” His pleas have never been heard before, so its no surprise when nothing changes beyond the flames dancing higher and higher until all he can see is fire, screams ringing in his ears as he falls to his knees._

_He can’t stop this._

_He can’t stop the flames._

_****_

    Molly had sent Fjord off to rest after they’d sat in awkward silence for an hour, knowing that the worst was still to come, and brushing off the half-orc's concern about his lack of rest, unable to even consider leaving Caleb’s side until he woke. However, despite his best intentions he was beginning to doze off, exhaustion finally catching up with him when he first felt it, the faintest twitch of bandaged fingers against his. At once he was bolt upright, eyes darting to Caleb’s face, just as Caleb’s expression twisted into a mask of grief. It was an expression that Molly knew all too well, having seen him through too many disturbed nights and he growled under his breath, cursing whatever had happened in the past that refused to let go of the wizard even as he leant forward.

“Caleb.” Normally his response would be to curl around Caleb, holding him close, arms and tail wrapped around him to ground him in the present, but his injuries made that impossible right now, meaning he had to rely on his voice alone. “Sweetheart.” The endearment tasted like ash in his mouth, and for a moment he was back in the chamber, blades biting into Caleb’s flesh. I don’t deserve to call him that…

     There was no time for him to wallow in his guilt because Caleb was stirring now, the pain beginning to register as a low whimper escaped, his movements stilling, and Molly half expected him to slip back under without opening his eyes. Instead, there was a pause, Caleb’s ragged breathing betraying his continued wakefulness, before his eyes slowly crept open. The blue was less hazy than before but still clouded with pain and exhaustion as they slowly drifted around the room, before slowly focusing on Molly and in a single instance Molly gleaned two things. One, Caleb remembered what had happened, the truth of it written in the way he instantly tensed, eyes darting down to his bandaged torso and then to the hand Molly was still holding and two…

Caleb was afraid of him.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Caleb was afraid of him.

    Seeing the wizard frightened was an unfortunately familiar sight. Although not as common as it had been at one time, the long months of travelling with them and with Molly’s devotion and protectiveness having eased some of it. However, Molly had never been the cause of that fear before, and whereas before all it would have taken was a soft word, and even gentler touch to reassure the wizard, that wouldn’t work this time. Not with Caleb already flinching back, hunching in on himself and frantically trying to pull his hand out of Molly’s grip.

“Caleb….” Molly lets him go, heart aching, but he can’t and won’t do anything else that will push his partner closer to the edge he’s clearly teetering on. Caleb flinches harder at his voice, and it's clear the movement hurts him because he pales, a strangled gasp the first sound that he makes. “Caleb, it’s okay, you’re safe now.” The words are hollow, and he knows it because Caleb was supposed to be safe with them, with him. How many times had he held the wizard late at night when nightmares and roused him, promising to keep him safe from whatever it was that haunted his memories? How many times had he reassured Nott that he would keep her boy safe?

_How naïve were we?_

    All of that, the months of progress of seeing the wary wizard beginning to trust them, to see them as friends and later family. All of that had been destroyed by a single spell, and by his own hand as his blades had bitten into Caleb’s back, and he fell silent, unable to voice the reassurances that he wasn’t sure that he believed in anymore. _I don’t know how to fix this._ He had realised that while he was sat with Caleb, but it didn’t make it any less of a bitter pill to swallow as he met Caleb’s terrified eyes, as the wizard slowly pushed himself upright on quivering arms. Molly wanted to stop him, knowing that he could reopen the partially healed wounds, but he couldn’t make himself move, terrified that Caleb would misconstrue his attempts at the moment. It didn’t stop him leaning forward, tail lashing in agitation as even more colour drained from his partner’s face, a grimace of pain finally breaking the terrified mask.

“Mollymauk…?” The whisper is unexpected, as is the sound of his own name and he jolts, trying not to break as Caleb flinched at the sudden movement. The wizard is looking at him, terror still written across his face, but he’s looking, watching…searching, Molly realises, and he swallows before he nodded slightly. _Caleb._ There’s no relief, and even now the wizard looks scared, but there’s a moment when his arm comes up, trembling with the effort and seems to reach for him before Caleb thinks better of it, and allows it to fall back against the bed. “Y-you…” Another furtive glance, and a nervous smile, a tension that tells him Caleb is waiting for a blow, even as the wizard digs on some deep reservoir of courage that leaves Molly breathless to ask. “Y-you are yourself, j-ja?” His voice wavered and broke, and he shrank back before the words were completely out, a hand half raised as though to shield himself.

“Yes…” Molly breathed, daring to lean forward a little bit. “Yes, Caleb…we’re all ourselves again, thanks to you.” And that’s the rub of it, isn’t it? They’d all come terrifying close to killing Caleb, and yet he hadn’t blamed them, he hadn’t abandoned them. Instead, he’d been willing to give everything, including himself and his freedom to save them, and maybe he had succeeded, Molly thought as he studied Caleb, shivering as he remembered the wizard’s cries as his own flames had consumed him.

“No, I-I…”

“You saved all of us,” Molly cut off the whispered protest, refusing to let Caleb believe otherwise. In between the memories, and the worries about what they were going to do now, he had let himself think about the alternative. About what would have happened… not if they’d killed Caleb, because that was a thought that he wasn’t ready to confront, but if they’d remained charmed puppets. What would they have been made to do? How much harm could they have done? He didn’t want to know the answer, and his words were even more heartfelt this time. “You saved us.” He reached out, hands coming to rest on the edge of the bed, needing to be closer but not wanting to scare Caleb, especially when he seemed to have relaxed a little with his words, although he didn’t look convinced by what Molly was saying. “Caleb, you…”

“Nott…and the others?” Caleb interrupted, not quite looking at him and not trusting yet, still leaning away from, his body language screaming ‘stay away’ in a way that it hadn’t since the early days of their travels together. Yet, there was worry in his voice, concern for their friends…concern for him, even after everything thing they’d done.

“They’re…back to normal.” He couldn’t lie and say they were fine, even though Caleb’s eyes had closed, grief flickering across his face at his words. He couldn’t pretend that they were just going to bounce back from this because if he hadn’t known it before, it was written across Caleb’s face as the wizard sighed and opened his eyes. “Beau was keeping an eye on Nott for you. I think Fjord is keeping an eye out.” He doubted that any of them would be sleeping tonight, apart from Jester, although whether she managed to rest properly remained to be seen. “Jester is resting at the moment, she was tapped after healing the worst of y-your wounds.” His voice wavered this time because there wouldn’t have been any wounds to heal if they had been able to resist the charm, and he couldn’t pretend otherwise.

“That’s not true,” Caleb was never loud, but his voice was barely audible now, and he wasn’t looking at Molly now, a distant look in his eyes that never bode well. “It was a bad fight, even before…” He shook his head, unable to put it into words, and Molly was almost relieved that he wasn’t pretending to be okay. Almost…

“I know, but…”

“Don’t,” Caleb cut him off, almost frantic in his efforts. “Not yet, please…” He pleaded, and he sounded so wounded, so close to shattering that it was instinct to reach out, to try and offer comfort. Molly forgetting for an instant that his touch which had grounded Caleb so many times before for half a second, and even with his reassurances Caleb jerked violently away from him with a frightened cry.

_Caleb…_

    The wizard didn’t start there, any tentative calm that might have been settling over him lost as he scrambled towards the other side of the bed, and Molly’s heart was in his mouth as he realised that Caleb wasn’t stopping even as he made a strangled noise as his body protested the movement. With that noise and Jester’s warnings ringing in his ears he lunged forward, whispering a prayer to the Moonweaver that Caleb would understand as he reached for the wizard, ignoring his panicked attempts to avoid his grasp.

“Caleb! Caleb, stop!” He pleaded, taking hold of the wizard and hating himself as he felt how badly Caleb was trembling, and his tail was bunched against his leg, screaming his distress to the world as he tried to be as gentle as possible as he stopped Caleb’s attempts to leave the bed. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“More than you have?” Caleb snarled, a wounded animal backed into a corner, and so far from his attitude a moment before that it was shocking. And they both flinched violently at the words, his struggles stopping abruptly even as Molly let go as though scalded, and Caleb was wide-eyed as he stared at him. “Scheiße,” he mumbled after a second, and Molly flinched again, unable to forget the last time he had heard Zemnian on Caleb’s lips, the movement not going unnoticed and Caleb’s expression crumpled.  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” He trailed off falling into Zemnian again, and it was so reminiscent of when he pulled Caleb from the flames that Molly forgot all about the hurt from his partner’s words.

“Caleb…” He was still apologising Molly realised, picking up the few words he knew amongst the frantic words, and he frantically shook his head. Caleb’s words had hurt, his anger that had crested for a second cutting deep, but this was worse. The broken apologies, hurting more than anything he could say in anger. “No, Caleb…Dearheart…” The endearment slipped out in his desperation to stop Caleb, and it seemed to catch the wizard off guard as he cut off mid-word, starting at him again.  “You have nothing to apologise for,” Molly seized on the moment, words fierce as he met Caleb’s gaze and held it.

    He was unprepared for Caleb’s expression crumpling as the stunned silence stretched out, or for the wizard, lifting trembling, bandaged hands to cover his face as he began to shake. He wasn’t quick enough to stop Molly glimpsing the tears in his eyes and starting to spill down his cheeks, and Molly froze as the first sob wracked his partner. He didn’t know what to do, his usual method of soothing Caleb out of the window at the moment, hands clenching uselessly against his legs.

“Caleb…”

“It’s really you…” Caleb’s words came out broken, amongst the heaving sobs that were wracking him, and Molly was left speechless because the pure, undiluted relief in those words was so far from everything he had expected that he was lost. Awed, that Caleb who had more reason than ever not to trust those around him, was sobbing, curling in on himself, as he broke beneath the relief that the people who had hurt him were safe. “It’s you…” Molly reached out, hand closing on the covers just shy of Caleb, and he knew the wizard was aware of it, seeing him tense, but he didn’t flinch away this time, and Molly had to swallow a couple of times before he could get his voice to work enough to say.

“Yeah, it’s really me…”

**

   It hadn’t taken long for Caleb to fall asleep again, his injuries and the emotional fallout of everything that had happened taking a toll on him, and Molly wasn’t much better as he finally got to touch him without the wizard flinching. Although Caleb’s forehead furrowed as he was gently eased back down into a position that wouldn’t put precious on his wounds, Molly taking the opportunity to quickly check the bandages, relieved to see no sign of fresh blood as he doubted that Jester would be happy with anything that had just happened. His fingers lingered for a moment against Caleb’s cheek, wiping away the tear tracks with a heavy heart.

_Caleb…_

    The fear had been heart-breaking, but it had been expected. The rest hadn’t been expected, and Molly was humbled and lost in the face of Caleb’s relief. _It’s really you…_ He shook his head, slowly pulling his hand away, the lines of tension in the wizard’s face easing away and slowly, feeling as though there was a weight on his chest Molly backed away and practically fell into the chair he had been using, burying his head in his hands. _Caleb._ They didn’t deserve his forgiveness or his worry, not when Molly could still feel the moment his blades had impacted with his partner, and when Caleb was still lying there seriously injured, and he felt more lost than ever in the face of Caleb’s reactions, shoulders shaking and tail lashing as he followed Caleb in shattering.

*

    Caleb slowly opened his eyes as he finally heard Molly’s breathing easing out, blinking for a moment, his eyes feeling heavy and sticky after his tears, before turning his head to look at the Tiefling. Hating the way his heart constricted with fear as he looked at Molly, a feeling that intensified as his gaze wandered around the rest of the room, noting the scimitars that had been set aside in their ritual cloth, a shiver running down his spine as he remembered them coming towards him. _Raw, burning lines of pain across his back…his breath faltering, as tears clouded his vision…_ he gasped, jerking himself back into the present, and immediately wishing that he hadn’t as he was hit once more by the pain radiating through every inch of his body. He felt pounded, everything seeming to throb with each shaky breath, and he knew that there had been some healing, feeling the itch of freshly healed skin beneath some of the bandages, and he gulped, not wanting to think about how badly injured he must’ve been to still be in this state.

     Of course, as soon as he thought that, all he could think about was what had happened, the details engrained on his memory never to be forgotten.

_The crushing impact of Jester’s lollipop slamming into his side,_ his breath hitching as he felt the deep ache that spoke of partially healed broken ribs.

_A bolt in his side, puncturing him deeply, a sharp pain that couldn’t be ignored…_ There was a wad of bandages in that area as he reached down with trembling fingers, wishing with a raw, aching twist of his heart that Nott had missed.

_Golden eyes, devoid of the determination and fire, and oh so cold as the falchion drew a line of fire across his face…_ That wound was healed, not even a scar left in its wake, and yet as he traced his finger over where it had been, it seemed to Caleb that he could still feel the blood trickling from it.

_Beau – his fellow member of team human, coming at him with the same ferocity that she had always faced down those who had hurt him, but blank-faced, devoid of the attitude he had come to appreciate._ He could feel her efforts in each aching breath, and he knew that if he looked beneath the bandages, he would be black and blue.

“They hurt me…” He whispered, the words deafening in the silence and somehow a hundred times more painful than when he’d snarled at Molly, the accusation slipping out before he could stop it. They had hurt him. He couldn’t hide from that, and he knew that even a few months ago it might have been enough to see him stealing away in the dead of night, although Nott…

    He shook his head, not ready to go there, or deal with the thought of what he might have done back then, blinking as he looked at Molly once more. Back then he might have walked away, but now…

_‘You saved all of us…’_

    Caleb didn’t believe that. His memory of those final moments of the fight was a blur, and that was probably a good thing because what he did remember was all dancing flames and deadly heat, threatening to blur with the memories of a different time. A different family. He grimaced and shook his head, glancing at his bandaged hands. _Feuer._ No, whatever he had done, he couldn’t believe those words knowing what his magic, his fire was capable of… remembering how his desperate attempts to reach them had failed.

_I couldn’t fight you. I couldn’t protect you, but…I can forgive you…_

   He had seen Molly’s anguish at his snarled words, and at the way, he had flinched away even when he’d known that Molly was back to himself, and the guilt when he’d spoken about his injuries. _They know what they did,_ he thought, closing his eyes. He had hoped that they wouldn’t, wanting to spare them that pain, even though a tiny part of him was relieved not to be alone in knowing what had happened. And while the fear was still there, a deep current that would take some time to ease, he couldn’t blame them. He wouldn’t blame them, thinking back to a time when another will had guided his actions, and he closed his eyes.

_It wasn’t them._

    He just wished it sounded a little more convincing even with the safety of his own thoughts, drawing in a shuddering breath. _It wasn’t them. They wouldn’t have done this,_  and he forced his eyes open once more, turning just enough to see Molly’s hand that was still laid on the bed beside him, taking a deep breath before reaching for it. Only to come up short, his fingers just shy of touching Molly, beginning to tremble again, unable to bring himself to close that last little bit of distance and after a moment, he growled in frustration and pulled his hand back.

_It wasn’t them. It wasn’t…_

**Author's Note:**

> Updates for 'Your my Heart's Home' and 'Flames of the Past' will be up by wednesday - I've been caught up in essays for uni, but the last one is due tomorrow and then I am free for the summer, which means more writing time. This was just self-indulgent, and my reward for meeting my essay quota each day lol.


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